


and now the whole thing's tumbling down

by Cirkne



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Dinesh POV, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 14:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15664938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cirkne/pseuds/Cirkne
Summary: After everything, this is how he comes undone.





	and now the whole thing's tumbling down

"You're still coding?" Gilfoyle asks standing on the other side of the table. Dinesh vaguely registers movement in the corner of his eye, where Gilfoyle is probably crossing his arms against his chest the way he does when he disapproves of Dinesh’s actions, but doesn't turn to look at him. 

"Fuck off," he says instead and bites the inside of his bottom lip when he realizes the last four lines don't make sense. "I don't have time for this." In the dark of the screen, his code starts to blur. Dinesh blinks, shakes his head to himself. Selects and deletes, takes a deep breath before typing again. Gilfoyle stands there for a few moments before he decides to leave Dinesh alone and walk to the kitchen.

Dinesh's been coding since this morning when Richard had come into his room, Dinesh still only in his underwear and the T-shirt he sleeps in, and asked him if he wished Richard death because if he didn’t he would have started working half an hour ago. It’s nearing 3 am now, the lights at their workstation are doing their hardest to give him a headache. And, okay, he knows that this isn't that hard. He knows Gilfoyle already finished his part, hours ago already, fine, whatever, fuck him. Not everyone can be perfect all the time. Not everyone can-

He doesn’t know. He’s tired. As much as he wants to hate Gilfoyle for already being done, it’s his own fault. He used to be at the top of his class and now he's like everyone else in Palo Alto. Better than most people elsewhere but painfully average here, surrounded by nerds who know just as much as he does. And this house used to feel like he was allowed that. Like he was here with all these other coders and they were all trying to do something and they were all succeeding and failing together. But then, of course, one of them finally did something and now Dinesh is working for Richard and letting him guilt him into getting out of bed. He hasn’t had time to work on his own stuff in months. Hasn’t even tried. So what does he have to show for it after all the excitement of creating something like Pied Piper is stripped down? Because Richard has his genius boy algorithm and Gilfoyle has his system architecture and the servers he built with his bare hands and Erlich will always have Aviato, always have his moment in the sun all those years ago and Big Head, god, the one person he thought he was doing better than, has his face on the cover of Wired magazine. And Dinesh is still sitting at his computer, hours after everyone's retired to their rooms, struggling with code that should be easy.

He makes another mistake and feels himself start to shiver. The lack of sleep is starting to catch up to him but there’s also anger and desperation that get underneath his skin. He feels restless and sort of numb, really. He's not going to finish tonight. Dinesh leans back and saves, twice, just in case and wonders why he even bothers since he'll just have to rewrite all of it tomorrow anyway. 

His eyes fall on the time. If he gives up on it he’s wasted an entire day but he also can’t do much right now. Breathes out, cracks his knuckles, lifts his eyes to the light in the kitchen. He needs coffee if he wants to continue.

He’s light headed when he stands up but walking into the kitchen helps the headache, if only a little bit. He spends so much time around computers he forgets the buzzing in your ears can go away. The light in the kitchen is better too, dimmer. He deflates into a chair at the kitchen table, looks over at Gilfoyle. He’s bent over the counter, black shorts, black shirt, hair tied in a ponytail, pouring water into two mugs. It’s always strange seeing any of them like this. Easy to forget this isn’t just their place of work but their home too. 

_Two mugs._ Dinesh hadn’t realized Gilfoyle had company but he wasn’t paying much attention to anything today and it makes sense, really. It’s been a month since he and Tara broke up (which Dinesh only really knows because he caught Gilfoyle setting fire to the flannel she got him his last birthday). It’s about time.

"You took the best mugs," Dinesh says because he doesn’t like existing in silence around Gilfoyle. It doesn’t fit them. What he means to say is _you took my favorite mug_ but he doesn’t want Gilfoyle to have that kind of information because there are ways he could use it against Dinesh. The thought of that shouldn’t make him upset but he’s had a long day. He’s allowed childish vulnerability sometimes.

"I know," Gilfoyle answers, easy. Puts the kettle back in it's place, stirs both mugs with one spoon then puts it in his mouth. _Gross_ Dinesh thinks with no real grounds behind it. The sooner Gilfoyle leaves the sooner he gets his coffee, rubs at his eyes with the heels of his hands. 

He waits to hear Gilfoyle leave but instead the chair on the other side of the table scrapes against the floor and when Dinesh moves his hands from his eyes, Gilfoyle is setting down one of the mugs in front of him. His favorite mug.

"Here," he says. “For you.” Dinesh blinks down at it, then up at Gilfoyle. 

"This is tea," he says, dumbfounded because he doesn't think he's said thank you to Gilfoyle, ever, for anything. Not even when he had just moved in and they barely knew each other.

"You'll finish your code tomorrow," Gilfoyle tells him sitting down on the opposite side of the table, hand around the top of his own mug. "Nothing you can do tonight anyway. It’ll be best if you get some sleep." 

"You sound like Jared," Dinesh accuses and eyes the tea. They don’t do things like this. Or, they never do them obviously enough for the other to be able to comment on it.

"Fuck you," Gilfoyle answers but there's no anger or any other emotion behind it. Monotone, as always, blank. He’s impossible to read. So Dinesh drinks and closes his eyes, the warmth of the tea settling in his chest. When he opens his eyes, happier than he was five minutes ago, Gilfoyle is watching him.

"What?" he asks. "Did you do something to it? Did you finally poison me?"

"Should have," Gilfoyle says turning to look past him, takes a sip of his own tea. Stays quiet exactly long enough to make Dinesh wonder if maybe he actually did and then, easily: "I’m surprised you can drink it that hot, is all." Dinesh hms. He thinks of about five responses, all insults, none of them any good.

"Right," he says instead, feels like this is where he says thank you but can’t force himself to. Drums his fingers against the table. 

"Save your shitty code before you pass out," Gilfoyle says after a while, stands up to go back to his bedroom.

“I already did,” Dinesh answers but it feels like maybe Gilfoyle knew that. Like there’s something else, between them, and Dinesh has no idea what it is.

*

Gilfoyle texts:

Get up. Playing fortnite.

and Dinesh rolls over in his bed, sends him three middle finger emojis.

Two minutes later the door to his bedroom opens and a can of redbull hits him in the ribs.

“Ow! You asshole,” Dinesh groans and turns to glare at a bored looking Gilfoyle.

“I said get up,” Gilfoyle tells him. “Richard’s going to make us work when he wakes up so hurry the fuck up.” 

“You’re the worst person in the world,” Dinesh says but he’s fishing the redbull out of his sheets and sitting up in his bed. “Give me like fifteen minutes.”

“Ten,” Gilfoyle says and leaves without closing the door.

*

He realized he liked guys in his second year at Oxford. His roommate had curly hair and the kind of brown eyes you could only really tell were brown in the morning light coming in through the window while they got ready to go to class. He had been the first person to look like he actually cared about what Dinesh had to say. His name was Will and they used to get into his shitty car at midnight and drive to a gas station fifteen minutes away from campus to get energy drinks. Dinesh would watch passing cars through the window and wonder what kissing Will would feel like.

He never got to find out.

Through the open door of the gas station he’s in now, he watches their sign flicker in the dark and feels awfully like he's twenty again. The fact that it’s practically empty, not including, of course, the cashier and then him and Gilfoyle, doesn’t help one bit.  
Last time he heard, Will had a son with a girl that used to work at the coffee shop on campus. She had blonde hair and big green eyes and never really liked Dinesh.

"You getting anything or are you gonna be zoning out the entire time?" Gilfoyle asks pulling Dinesh back to reality. He’s setting the six pack of beer and twelve pack of redbull on the counter. The cashier raises her eyebrows for a second before snapping back to a cheery smile. Dinesh fights the urge to roll his eyes. She works in Palo Alto, she shouldn’t be surprised at the energy drinks.

"Anything else?" she asks and Dinesh wonders if she’s smiling the way she is because the night hasn’t gotten to her yet or because she thinks Gilfoyle’s hot.

"Yeah, give me a pack of marlboro reds and whatever princess over there is gonna have," Gilfoyle turns to Dinesh. "Don't make the nice lady wait, sweetheart," he says, an attempt at implying Dinesh is a little girl but it just sounds weird in his monotone. 

"Fuck off," Dinesh answers, makes a face at him. "Since when are you paying for me?" 

"Since it's company money," Gilfoyle tells him and pulls what Dinesh recognizes as Richard's card out of his wallet. Dinesh rolls his eyes. Of course, he thinks and ignores how pleased with himself Gilfoyle looks.

"Yeah, okay, can you heat up two paninis for me?" he asks instead of giving him the satisfaction of a reply. The cashier eyes him, Gilfoyle, the beer and the card but ends up just nodding and moving to do so. "This is stealing," Dinesh tells Gilfoyle once the cashier's out of earshot.

"He gave me the card himself," Gilfoyle shrugs, nonchalant. 

"To get him redbull, not buy yourself beer," Dinesh says but the cashier comes back before he can say anything else. Gilfoyle pushes Richard's pin in an lifts the beer on top of the redbulls before sliding them from the counter to his chest and turning towards the exit.

"I'll be in the car," he says. "Don't want to keep the boss waiting." Dinesh does roll his eyes this time, takes the cigarettes Gilfoyle left on the counter and slides them in his pocket. Waits, awkwardly, for his paninis to heat and tries his hardest not to watch as the cashier pretends to busy herself with straightening various things out.

When he walks back to the car, Gilfoyle's leaning on the side of it, their purchases already in the trunk. He catches, effortlessly, the panini Dinesh throws at him, then holds out his hand for the cigarettes. 

"Technically I should be giving these to Richard," Dinesh says handing them over.

"I'll stop using his card when the dick starts paying us better," Gilfoyle counters, pulls out one of the cigarettes while Dinesh takes a bite of his panini. The flickering light of the sign keeps throwing red shadows on Gilfoyle’s face. They should really get that fixed, Dinesh thinks and not about how soft it makes Gilfoyle’s features look. Not about being twenty and completely smitten. Dark brown eyes looking at him while they stand next to a car, the air chilly against his skin. The cigarette, the long fingers and _fuck_ this is dangerous. 

Behind them, someone honks their horn because Gilfoyle’s car is still parked by the gas tank and Gilfoyle flips them off without turning to look at the driver, panini still in the same hand.

"So why are you smoking?" Dinesh asks, takes another bite out of his own, doesn’t look at the driver even though he wants to.

"To look cool," Gilfoyle answers, turns his face to blow the smoke away from Dinesh. 

"I know you only smoke when you're stressed, Gilfoyle," Dinesh says, follows the smoke with his eyes as the wind catches it. Earns a glare. 

"Unlike you, I have nothing to be stressed about," is the answer he gets and Dinesh smirks behind another bite. 

"Okay, don't tell me, fucker, I'll find out when Richard gives you shit for your awful code." 

"He doesn't give you shit and your code's always awful," Gilfoyle says. The car behind them honks again, Dinesh turns to look at the driver now, takes another bite as the poor guy shakes his fist at them. "How long do you think it'll be till he realizes there's three other gas tanks here?"

"Two more minutes?" Dinesh asks. 

"You're giving him too much credit," Gilfoyle. "I say five," the way he's smiling, just a little, so people that don't know him well wouldn't be able to tell he’s enjoying the fuck out of this, makes Dinesh feel like it’s just them two in the entire world. He knows this feeling. It has found home in his chest before.

*

It seems fitting, somehow, the way it finally happens. Gilfoyle leans over his shoulder to point out the mistakes of Dinesh’s code, chest warm against Dinesh’s back.

“This is fucking awful,” Gilfoyle says, voice so close it sends a shiver down Dinesh’s spine. 

After everything, this is how he comes undone. 

*

He opens the door to the bathroom to find Gilfoyle leaning over the sink, brushing his teeth, hair wet, no glasses and chest bare, only a towel around his hips. 

"Jesus, lock the door," Dinesh says and grabs at his bathrobe as if afraid it’s untied itself for some reason. There’s still steam swirling around in the room, it stills smells vaguely like oranges because of the shampoo Gilfoyle uses.

"Can you not look at a man brushing his teeth?" Gilfoyle asks around his toothbrush without turning to Dinesh and there's still toothpaste in his mouth. 

"You're gross," Dinesh tells him, focuses his eyes on the back of Gilfoyle’s neck to avoid staring at his lips. It’s not that the idea of kissing someone with toothpaste in their mouth is appealing it’s more that having Gilfoyle in front of him before they’ve both had their coffee or made themselves presentable for the outside world feels almost domestic and soothing in a way Dinesh would have never expected it to.

"Right,” Gilfoyle says, wipes the toothpaste away from the corner of his mouth with his thumb, turns the water on to run his hand under it. “The shower's all yours."

"Well I'm not gonna get in when you're here,” Dinesh wants, badly, to run his fingers through Gilfoyle’s stupid, still wet hair. Untangle the soft curls that formed while he was washing it.

"Suit yourself," Gilfoyle shrugs and goes back to brushing his teeth. As slowly as possible, it seems. Dinesh breathes out. He doesn’t know how much longer he can stand here before he’s overcome with longing.

"God, you're such a fucking asshole.”

"He really is," Gilfoyle agrees and bends to spit the toothpaste out, hair falling off his shoulders. He looks so pleased with himself Dinesh has to stop himself from leaning in closer. 

"Shut up," he grumbles, wonders if Gilfoyle would kill him if he tugged his hair back behind his ear.

"Good one, Dinesh," Gilfoyle says and finally, _finally_ turns to look at him and there's something about it. About his wet skin and intent eyes, especially now with nothing shielding them and he can probably only see Dinesh because they’re standing so close to each other and there’s something about that, too. And mostly, really, the way he says Dinesh's name, softer than he usually would as if he’s not actually making fun of him. 

Dinesh feels heat pool to his ears, looks away from Gilfoyle. 

"Just hurry up," he mutters and stays still until Gilfoyle turns back to the sink to rinse his mouth. 

*

Tara sends a box of Gilfoyle’s stuff in the mail. There’s a few shirts, a couple of books, some cds. Dinesh watches over Gilfoyle’s shoulder as he pulls out a dvd of American beauty. A post it note on it says _I know you bought this for me but it’s your favorite, so_. 

“There’s no way that’s your favorite movie,” Dinesh says because he can’t think of any comforting words. 

“It’s my favorite movie,” Gilfoyle answers, almost like he’s not really aware of what he’s saying and there’s something behind his words, a hint of emotion Dinesh can’t place, frowns at where he puts the dvd on the kitchen table.

“No way,” Dinesh shakes his head. “You watched Silence of the lambs _twice_ the week you were sick, not this,” he motions to the movie.

Gilfoyle pulls out and starts folding the shirts. He looks younger like this, almost confused. _Vulnerable_ Dinesh’s mind supplies. Lips pressed shut and blank, focused on a spot on the table.

“That was two years ago,” he says after a while, almost like he doesn’t believe in his argument himself and he’s not looking at Dinesh. 

“You’re a creature of habit,” Dinesh tells him, walks to the fridge to pull out Gilfoyle’s disgusting piss tasting beers. “You know I kept trying to think of ways to use it against you and couldn’t. It’s a good movie.”

Gilfoyle stacks the books by size on the table next to the dvd. Lifts his eyes for a second to look at Dinesh, then goes for the cds. Dinesh sets the beers in front of him. 

“You wanna watch American beauty?” he asks, waits for a beat, then goes to look for a bottle opener.

“No,” Gilfoyle says, when Dinesh turns to him he’s putting everything back into the box.

“You wanna watch Silence of the lambs?” he asks then, softer now. Gilfoyle doesn’t answer. “See?” Dinesh smiles. “C’mon, it’s probably on netflix, you can deal with this stuff later.” 

Gilfoyle takes the beers, follows him into the living room. 

*

He's sitting on one of the deck chairs in the backyard. The song coming from the house sounds almost familiar but not quite and he feels tired in ways he can barely recognize, head buzzing from half the beer he's had already, the rest of the bottle turning warm in his hand.

He can see Gilfoyle walking up to him and he thinks it's probably a bad idea to talk to him now but he can't find it in himself to stand up and leave so he watches, waits. 

"You gonna hide here all night?" Gilfoyle asks, sitting down next to him. He's wearing his favorite shirt and Dinesh closes his eyes, hates that he knows that. Hates that he knows anything about this asshole when they claim to hate each other. Hates how long ago that stopped being true and started just being a thing they say so they don’t have to talk about what they really are. Dinesh doesn’t _know_ what they really are. It drives him wild. “Dinesh,”

"Yes, I’m gonna hide here all night" he answers. His voice sounds more sad than it does annoyed. He bends and rests his forehead against his knees, breathes out, waits for Gilfoyle to stand up and leave. 

"Okay," Gilfoyle says instead and doesn't move. The song in the house ends. For a moment he can only hear his heartbeat and then another one starts.

"You're staying?" Dinesh asks, doesn’t turn to look at him. 

"The party sucks anyway," by where his voice is coming from, Dinesh can tell Gilfoyle’s facing him. He thinks of a way to say _I think I’m in love with you_ and settles with:

"Right. No one's playing always blue." 

"Right,” Gilfoyle echoes. Dinesh can hear the smirk in his voice, can’t think of anything else to say.

The silence hangs heavy in the air between them and if he wasn’t such a lightweight he could tell there’s significance behind Gilfoyle choosing to spend the evening with him.

*

Gilfoyle's high and giggly and laying on the floor of the living room, looking up at Dinesh on the couch. 

"I've never seen you like this before," Dinesh says, a breathy whisper and his eyes are fixed on Gilfoyle's neck, how it stretches when he laughs.

"No one has," Gilfoyle answers, looking right at him. 

*

Oh.

*

 _Oh._

*

So maybe he’s not the only one falling.

*

Dinesh walks into the kitchen to see Gilfoyle making coffee. He’s still in his sweats. His hair’s still tied up. Two mugs on the counter.

“I think we have enough time to watch a movie before Richard wakes up, he passed out pretty late last night,” Gilfoyle tells him without even checking if it’s really Dinesh that walked in.

“Are you making coffee for me?” Dinesh asks. His hands might start shaking a little, he doesn’t know.

“Obviously, genius, who else would I-”

“I’m in love with you,” Dinesh blurts over him and then recoils, bites the inside of his lip. Gilfoyle puts the kettle down, turns to look at him, eyes curious. Watches him for way longer than should be legal.

“Okay,” he says eventually.

“ _Okay?_ Is that all you can fucking say? I confess something like this and you can’t even-”

“Shut up,” Gilfoyle interrupts and then frowns, reaches his hand out to Dinesh. “I mean- come here, idiot. So am I, I thought it was obvious.”

“In what universe would it be obvious?” Dinesh counters and stays standing where he was, partly because he likes fucking with Gilfoyle. Mostly because he doesn’t trust his legs not to give out on him.

“I’m making you coffee,” Gilfoyle says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, turns away from Dinesh, picks the kettle up again, continues pouring the water.

“You’re correct, yes. The barista at Philz coffee is in love with me too, obviously.” He watches the way Gilfoyle moves, walks past him to get the milk from the fridge while Gilfoyle finds the sugar in one of the cupboards. He thinks he probably shouldn’t be acting this calm but he doesn’t know what else to do.

“Which one?” Gilfoyle turns to look at him as Dinesh unscrews the cap off of the milk.

“Oh, all of them. I’m a total catch.” He goes to pour the milk in and Gilfoyle doesn’t move to give him space, body radiating heat right next to his. 

“Right, yeah, anyone would be lucky to have you.” Dinesh sets the milk down on the counter, screws the cap back on.

“Is that sarcasm?” he turns to Gilfoyle to ask. “Right after you admitted that you’re in love with me?”

“Right after I admitted that I’m in love with you,” Gilfoyle confirms and then his face goes soft, suddenly. “Come here,” he says, even though Dinesh is standing right next to him, voice low and silky.

“Where do you think I am?” Dinesh asks and melts completely into it when Gilfoyle rests his hands on his sides. Waits. “Are you going to kiss me or not?” 

“Don’t know,” Gilfoyle says, pretends to think about it.

“Fuck you,” Dinesh groans and leans in to do it himself.

Gilfoyle makes a low sound in the back of his throat, pulls Dinesh closer, leans into the touch when Dinesh lifts one of his hands to Gilfoyle’s hair, pulls the hair tie out as he’s running his fingers through it and just as he goes to deepen the kiss, Gilfoyle pulls away.

“The coffee is going to get cold.”

“No, honestly, _fuck you,_ Gilfoyle. I’ve been waiting for this for-”

Gilfoyle kisses him and Dinesh considers, for a moment, pulling away just to tell him what an asshole he is but Gilfoyle is moving one of his hands to the small of Dinesh’s back and holding him close and firm and he decides against it.

The coffee gets cold. Richard comes find them right before the movie they weren’t really watching ends and isn’t shocked nearly enough at the sight of them on Gilfoyle’s bed, wrapped around each other.

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this entire fic for that one line about Gilfoyle being high and giggly
> 
> title from no one's gonna love you by band of horses
> 
> im @ safebird on tumblr if u wanna talk about silicon valley


End file.
